


Year 1, Summer 28

by Plyobic



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, Other, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plyobic/pseuds/Plyobic
Summary: - Elliot looked into the dark and fruity wine Gus had poured him. Indeed, he knew the locals well, even though Elliot himself had only been there scarcely longer than the new farmer, and had seen them tenuously less."Do they seem to be settling in well, you think?" Elliot said finally after a long sip, "It's quite the thing, you know, to uphaul one’s life." He could feel the words threaten to spill out and onto the bar. There was enough sobriety left in him to keep them back and save them for the page in the morning, if he remembered. He didn't think he would forget. -
Relationships: Elliott/Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Year 1, Summer 28

**Author's Note:**

> It's About The Yearning.  
> Or, at least, the point in which Elliot is beginning to have some soft yearning for the new farmer to town. 
> 
> Just a gentle bit of inspiration I had now that I've found myself gladly dragged back into the haven of Stardew Valley. There's something very comfortable about the way a cute slice of life romance can grow.  
> Hm. Maybe I'm a little bit romantic at heart, too.

They had goals. That's what they proudly, if quietly, declared one evening at the Stardrop Saloon under nothing but the haze of their own excitement. Spring had been a rough learning curve, and Summer had felt like the fruits of various labours had grown well because of it.

Elliot had enjoyed that turn of phrase when he heard it. Farming not just the land, their crops, their animals, but something inside of them, too.  
He liked to think that, under the warm and worn lights of the Saloon, he could see that growth peeking through the cracks. But he knew he was a romantic at heart in a lot of ways. Still, there was something to be said for the quiet victories. Nobody quite celebrates the ever-steady, ceaseless march of nature, but hey, maybe he would start.

"They were awful quiet," Gus said to Elliot when Elliot made his way up to the bar to make one final questionable decision for the night, "When they first arrived, I mean. Spent a lot of time up in the mountains with the wild man, Linus, and out by that strange old tower." Gus would comment that he knew the people of the town well, and he did. Possibly too well in some cases. But he had just as much the capability to be a gossip if he wanted at the end of a night, after others had turned in for the evening. A man in his position needed the ability to vent about all the unofficial emotional work his position granted him, "I suppose it's no surprise they ended up talking to Lewis about the old Community Center."

Elliot looked into the dark and fruity wine Gus had poured him. Indeed, the bartender knew the locals well, even Elliot, even though Elliot himself had only been there scarcely longer than the new farmer, and had seen them tenuously less. "Do they seem to be settling in well, you think?" Elliot said finally after a long sip, "It's quite the thing, you know, to up-haul one’s life." He could feel the words threaten to spill out and onto the bar. There was enough sobriety left in him to keep them back and save them for the page in the morning, if he remembered. He didn't think he would forget.

Gus leaned and cleaned a glass, "I'd like to think so. It's like making bread," he said idly. Elliot let him have his moment with his cooking metaphor. It wasn't his style, but he would feel remiss if he didn't take the time to appreciate what Gus was going for, "It takes some time for the yeast to rise. The proper environment, the right food," He turned, put the glass away but kept talking, and Elliot had to strain a little to hear him properly, "But eventually, it rises to fill the space and be very fulfilling." And when he finally turned back around, he presented Elliot with a fresh bowl of Tom Kha Soup, much to the authors pleasant surprise, "It's thoughtful of you to worry after them, Elliot." Gus said finally.

He rejected Elliot's attempts to pay him, stating that this one was on the house, as it was a bit experimental, and the only payment he would accept was a report back on how it was. Elliot was hardly about to turn it down, if only for knowing his bachelor lifestyle didn't afford him the most rounded of diets. It wouldn't be the first or the last time, he was sure.

He took it gratefully and made his way home, pausing in the middle of town and looking out towards where the once-abandoned farm had been. He had only been once, early when he arrived. Just simply doing a walk around of the area after settling in. It was a veritable forest and it had done a lot to get his inspiration stirring, but he hadn't seen it since. Only overheard snippets of conversation in the Saloon from those who had been for a brief visit. Lewis had said it was coming along nicely, and Marnie readily agreed when she had found a dog on the fringes and encouraged the new farmer to have a companion. Robin was elated to be part of the work of building and restoring the property.

All in all, Elliot felt the want to see how it had all changed.  
He had thought it the plans of an addled mind when he went to bed that night to the sound of waves and full of soup - which he would be elated to tell Gus that the seasoning ratio was perfect, as far as he was concerned. But his waking at the crack of dawn with a vaguely heavy head told him otherwise.

He spent what felt like a very long time, yet in reality was only about ten minutes, thinking up an excuse to actually go and see. Though, in truth, he felt he didn't need one, per se. The farmer had always seemed warm to him in their few interactions. Presenting him with trinkets from the mines, saying that they heard he was a writer, and they hoped this particular rock would maybe be inspiring. Or, at the very least, be a nice piece in the background while he wrote. It felt only fair to bring something in kind. That would be a fine excuse, even though he still acknowledged he probably didn't need one, the want for things to roughly even out was still the same.

He pulled himself up, let the world steady a little, and went to his small trove of trinkets the ocean had washed up on his doorstep. Something pearlescent caught his eye at the bottom of the box and he decided that would do nicely. It was a shell that had somehow managed to remain wholly intact despite the tumultuous nature of the ocean, and if he was being honest, he felt it a nice metaphor for them both. Two individuals thrown about and cast to chance in the world, yet still keeping together. Maintaining their unique luster. He couldn't help the feeling of circumstantial camaraderie after learning that bit about them and drew it back again to his inherent romanticism. It was a nice sentiment, anyway. He didn't feel too ashamed of it. At least, not when it was in his head.

Gift in hand and the fresh welcoming smell of ocean on the air, he made his way across town. At the very least the walk would be a serviceable, and hopefully inspiring, break.  
Though he would be lying if he said the farm itself wasn't an inspiration in its own right.

The rundown image he had stored in his head was kept together by his own will, just so he could compare the change between then, and now, and he hoped well into the future too.

"Elliot? Oh- Elliot! Hello - Good morning!" The farmer nearly chirped from their position in between all of their corn and emerged, grinning and a little reddened from what he assumed was the already warm morning.

"Ah, good morning!" He gave back and made his way to the edge of their field. Here, between the rough stalks and leaves, they looked like some sprite. An exuberant energy rolled off them that he couldn't help but fall into the sway of, "I just thought I'd stop by for a visit. I - if that's okay, of course." and in all that energy he may have forgotten the little tidbit about him nearly, potentially imposing himself on their space.

To his relief, they simply perked up. A little sun, all the warmer for a split second. Elliot liked summer.  
"Of course, you can, Elliot. Anytime you like. It's nice having visitors, how are you doing? Oh, if you'd like we can walk, I'm about to go say hi to all the ladies."

"The...ladies?" He echoed. The farmer nodded.

"Yeah, the hens and the ducks, and so far, one little angora rabbit, though I hope to get more. They all play nice in their little area-"

A deep, din of a sound carried across the field and Elliot nearly jumped in place. To his momentary confusion, the farmer issued a low whistle, "Don't worry - that's just Big, short for Big Boy. He's my dog."  
Big Boy was right, the creature stood up to their hip easily, and the farmer was only a little shorter than Elliot himself. The dog looked like a shepherd of some kind, but he couldn't place the breed. Dog breeds weren't his strong suit, and the farmer admitted that it hadn't been theirs either. It was only after some work with Marnie and a trip to an adjacent town's vet clinic that they worked out he was some kind livestock guardian dog.

He seemed to fit the role. Once Elliot had been slotted firmly in the 'not a threat to his animals' category, the dog went back to laying in the shade with the small rabbit and a hen. "He's a gentle giant." Elliot couldn't help but croon, even under the idea that the seemingly stern animal would disapprove of the notion.

The farmer readily agreed, "Oh you should have seen him when the ducks were but chicks. I thought I'd lost some to foxes. Nope, just the fluff on him." One such duck in question toddled up to them and issued what could only be described as a conversational quack, to which the farmer nodded solemnly, stating the duck could go swim.

"I wouldn't have expected it from him, not with how mad he seemed to be when I arrived!" a true momentary terror to be sure.

"He's a big puppy when he's calm, promise. You watch, we'll turn our backs and then he'll start doing running laps like a puppy. We were worried he wouldn't actually take to the flock at all given he was a bit older, but no, he seems well at home. Even with the cows."

That would explain the barn in the distance, just across the pond surrounded by trees. The farmer went inside, checked the coops, came out with some eggs and then sat themselves in the shade, gesturing for Elliot to sit beside them. "Sorry," they said, "Somethings always happening. Thank you for visiting though, now, how are you?" they laughed, now able to appreciate the full diversion that had happened.

There, leaning against the tree, Elliot had found himself struggling for words. Despite the momentary bustle, they looked at ease. Not like the glimpses he had of them last season. Tense, tired, wound. "I'm good," he said finally, digging into his pocket for the shell, "Busy, of course, with writing. But I expect, all going to plan I could finish late this year, or early next year." They perked, turned and looked awed, "That's amazing!" came the glad elation. The feeling that settled over him was warmer than the summer sun, he thought. Even thought it was only a small thing in the grand scheme of things, it felt big. It felt encouraging. It was encouraging. It had been so long he had nearly forgotten the feeling.

Even more than that, they had questions and he could feel himself buzz with excitement for answering them. He turned the shell over in his hands, the want to give it long forgotten in the joy of sharing the skeletal form of plot - without spoilers, of course - and he cracked into a painfully genuine grin when they asked with an almost childlike hope if they could read it, at some stage.

"Of course-" he said immediately, "I want to publish it, after all! I'd love to hear how you find it. It's a ways away, yet, but I want to do a reading. For the town, you know? When it is done."

It felt like a silly thing. He thought about it when he showered, how he would inflect his cadence, how he would deliver the lines, if he would put on a voice or not. Practicing for a goal and situation he wasn't even sure he would get the chance to do, but he loved it anyway.

They lit up again and he nearly met them in the middle when they smiled, how they said they could hardly wait was so achingly motivating he wished he had brought a notebook to start writing then and there under the shade of the tree. It was only the thought of rushing back to his cabin to jot down a thought that reminded him of the gift he had been fiddling with the entire time. He suddenly held it out, rather sheepishly, with a - "I brought this for you, by the way."

If they found any of it odd it didn't show. Instead, they just looked resoundingly curious and appreciative of the little trinket. They cradled it gently in their hands at first, then firmly when they were sure it wouldn't break. "Thank you, Elliot," Their words were warm, but this time soft, like a gentle sunbeam peeking through the curtains, "It's gorgeous. I'm going to put it on my windowsill."

That was a good idea, he thought. There, it could catch the sun and show off its colours for somebody who appreciated it like it deserved. Between the thought of now, the windowsill, and later this evening, a question struck him and fell out of him all at once, "The dance of the moonlight jellies is tonight. Are you going?"

Recognition hit them all at once and he found himself watching how it progressed over their face. The slight flicker of recognition that brought a light to their eyes, then the creeping signs of anticipation, "I am." They nodded with a smile, leaning back and settling against the tree, "Demetrius told me about it, it sounds wonderful I can't wait to see it for myself."

He couldn't wait to hear what they thought of it.  
He stopped by the Saloon on the way back to his little cabin and informed Gus of his Tom Kha Soup Opinions, then went right back to work. It sped the day up considerably. Right until the moon rose proudly overhead and he could hear the hustle and bustle of the little town settle onto the beach to welcome and watch their migratory friends. He jolted on the spot when he heard the farmer wander by, saying their hello's to Lewis, helping to move the lantern boat into the ocean by the dock, then chatting amiably with Willy. He stepped out of his cabin then, and at the same time realised how excited he may have looked. He tried to quash it to respectable 'simply excited about beautiful jellyfish' levels when the farmer turned and waved to him.

Elliot managed a presentable level of decorum in socialising with everybody before making his way to a quiet spot on the docks, all without inundating the supportive farmer with snippets of what he had written today. After everything, he couldn't help but find that shared excitement a little addictive. But it wouldn't do to turn the little community event into a small-scale writing symposium.

He couldn't help himself when he saw the farmer sit down, legs dangling over the edge of the dock out front of Willy's shop however. He ambled over. The creak of the old, steady wood heralding his presence. The farmer looked up, then really looked, saw who it was, and smiled. A gentle incline of the head invited him to sit beside them. He would have liked to pretend that he hesitated but he didn't at all. The only slowing to his movements were the ones that he did to settle as best as he could.

They were about to ask him something, he thought they were. Something banal and pleasant he was sure. But the ripple of questioning across everybody as to whether they were ready to send the little boat out took their attention instead. Even now they were excited, even when he could see the weariness from the day colour them into a more steady, muted quiet. Their legs kicked a little off the side of the dock in anticipation. A strange ease settled over Elliot as he looked at them, then the light on the boat, the moon, and finally the gentle, rhythmic glow of the jellyfish on their approach.

 _There's babies!_ Jas exclaimed in an attempt to whisper on the other side of the docks _and a green one!_ Added Vincent. And true enough, there it was. Drifting contentedly down in front of them both. The farmer was illuminated from below, and Elliot knew he should have been looking at the beautiful oceanic show, but he was a little too stuck on their utter elation, especially when they looked to him, almost questioning if he saw it too. Nearly reaching for him but instead deciding on pointing, then settling with their arms propped on their knees to support their chin rested on their hands.  
"It's beautiful." he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure LGDs don't actually act like that entirely, I really have no idea, but let me have this. I love them on principle and that's roughly the role I assume the farm-dog ends up having.   
> I love the farm dog. So. Much.   
> And Elliot, too, of course


End file.
